Strength
by nra40
Summary: Oneshot. F!Amell Warden has to make hard decisions for the sake of the man she loves, and the country she calls home.


A/N: Disclaimer, it's not mine. Also: Warning: Spoilers abound for DA:O, both end game and a number of other things.

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><p>King Alistair was a good king. Harsh, sometimes, but between the remnants of the blight preceding his rise to the throne and the conflict with Orliesians in his early years of ruling, and, well, everything else that happened during his reign, it was necessary. According to all reports, his Queen was a good woman. A younger daughter of one of Empress Selene's cousins, she was a studious woman with no ambitions to any throne, but enough connection to Orlais to help soothe relations there. He had no obvious indiscretions, and according to record was a reasonable man in his personal life. Only two things were known to make him truly angry. Threats to his country, and the mention of the other last Gray Warden of Fereldan.<p>

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><p>Alistair was not invited to fight the Archdemon. When… Amell was selecting who would accompany her on that task, Alistair was very well aware of his deliberate exclusion from the group. It only added to the anger he still felt. Especially since she quite obviously included that elf. When he saw the light reaching up towards the sky, and felt the Archdemon's death throes in his Gray Warden blood, he was still angry. Angry, and sad, and horrified, and grieving. But so incredibly angry.<p>

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><p>Betrayal. Disbelief mingled with horrified realization dashed with the spice of long suppressed jealousy. As much as Alistair didn't want it to be true, it was hard to cleanse the image from his mind. The sight of his lover, his companion sensuously twined around that damned elf, hands stroking, skin touching. Maybe, it could have gone differently. If she had quickly broken away, if she had protested the Antivan's gropes, hell – if she had responded to his advances with the gentle teasing she normally used. But instead she looked over the elf's shoulder and –damn her – met Alistair's injured gaze with her own. She didn't betray shock, or apology, the only thing in her eyes was a sort of immense, crushing sorrow.<p>

After Alistair had stormed off, he probably thought it had been a very stealthy move, Zevran disentangled himself from the Warden.

"As much as I enjoy teasing the man, would you care to explain why you are so intent on convincing him you are unfaithful, my dear Warden?"

Amell's face reflected her weariness as she slumped down and rested her forehead on Zevran's shoulder.

"No, I wouldn't. It has to do with that thing about me that you don't think I know you know."

"Ah, so I am right then?" She nodded against him. "How –?"

"I don't know. Born that way, I guess. When I was younger, I tried to fight against it. Eventually I just accepted it, then embraced it."

"Is there nothing…?"

"Nothing."

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><p>She was ready to scream in frustration. No matter how she Looked at it, only sorrow looked back. If she didn't accept, and then took him with her in the final battle, all she could See was herself as a sorrow lined older woman, fighting hordes of faceless enemies in the midst of a country falling apart for lack of a steady hand at the keel. If she left him behind, she saw a country beset on all sides with a guilt-stricken, depressed King, a good man, but not strong enough to pull Fereldan through. If she accepted… it was unthinkable. The only thing to See then was darkness and Flemeth's laughing face. There was only one thing she could think to do. For his sake, for Fereldan, betrayal and anger were better than sorrow and guilt.<p>

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><p>"Everyone looks out for themselves. You should learn that."<p>

She chose her words with careful precision. They were crafted exactly according to what she had Seen, chosen for their maximum effect. The look of hurt on her face almost made her flinch, but she restrained herself, because she knew it had to be done. The soft parts of him, the parts that made him innocent and boyish were… wonderful. Beautiful and she loved them, but kings could not be soft. If Alistair were to lead Fereldan through the difficult times ahead then he had to be made hard, strong, capable of weathering the coming storms.

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><p>"First, we go to Orzammar."<p>

"Isn't that a little… out of our way?" Alistair looked slightly baffled at the decision. "I mean, we've heard that Arl Eamon is sick. We lose precious time by trying to convince the Dwarves to join us first, he could die!"  
>"Arl Eamon will be fine. There are things we need in Orzammar." She was very sure of herself.<p>

"Trust me."

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><p>Before she saw him, she had a perfect plan. She would spare the both of them a lot of pain by keeping a safe distance, well, as much of a distance as could reasonably be expected given what the circumstances were going to be. Besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't Seen it, a thousand different times, a thousand subtly different ways. She told herself she would hardly miss out on anything, not actually going through with it. There would be another, she knew. And the two of them would have happy moments, good times. Though it did amuse her somewhat that there were literally no ways she would be able to hide at least a glimmer of the truth of her feelings from the painted elf. But then Alistair had to go and live up to everything that she had Seen, and more. Every word he spoke, every glance he shot her all reminded her of the thousand other little things that made her love him. She knew that even though it would hurt the both of them immensely, there was no way she could do anything other than grasp as feebly as she could for the bliss she would find in his arms for a short time.<p>

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><p>"If you knew a way to make someone... stronger, but it hurt them, would you still do it?"<p>

"What? I guess, it depends. What do they want?"

"What if... you don't know? What if you can't ask them, you have to either do it or not, that if they knew you were doing it, you couldn't, you know?"

"...Not really, no. But, it seems to me, that if someone could do something to me to help me get stronger, I'd want them to. Even if it hurt."

"Alright. Thank you."

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><p>AN: Alright, this is kind of strange, I know. It's told in reverse order, which hopefully was picked up on already, and the Warden is a human mage. The thing with the Seeing and such is that she is a Seer of the highest quality, in that she knows exactly what is going to happen based on her actions. In effect, she's playing the game after having read the game guide cover to cover. At least, that was the idea she was based off of, someone playing Dragon Age with the game guide open, very purposefully molding adorable Alistair into someone fit to be king (and have threesomes with Isabella) with a dashing of extra angst, because this is me writing xD


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